Sulan Box Set (Episodes 1-4)

by Camille Picott

  Gun grunts, resisting the urge to break something. “I wish I knew why he had them kidnapped in the first place.”

  Nate shrugs. “Who knows? You can bet he wasn’t going to sell them. Not really. Minds like that are too valuable. Maybe it was a ploy to draw out the rich and crazy. Maybe—oh, man, look at that.”

  The headline has changed. It now reads, Meet America’s young heroes tomorrow at 7 p.m. Central Time, Infinity Stadium.

  “He’s selling tickets to a press conference at Infinity Stadium,” Nate says. “Sulan and the others will be there.”

  “Use one of our alias accounts,” Gun says. “Get us tickets. No, wait—get tickets for the entire family.” He snatches up the sandwich, suddenly ravenous. “And get tickets for the Dread Twins. We’re going to hack the press conference.”

  “Hack the press conference?” Nate echoes.

  “Reginald is going to use Sulan and her friends to put Global front and center. When it comes time for Congress to award the defense contract, they want Global to be at the top of the list. We can’t compete with Global’s PR scheme, but we can interrupt it.” And if he knows Sulan—which he does—she’ll hate being thrust in front of the public. Gun plans to do what he can to make it less awful for her. “We aren’t going to roll over and accept defeat.” He strides to the door, taking huge bites as he goes.

  “Where are you going?” Nate asks.

  “To see my father.”

  • • •

  When he arrives at Anderson’s study, the door is closed. Four mercs stand in front of it.

  Gun draws up short at the sight of them. He’s used to seeing mercs, but rarely in the personal family wings, and never in front of his father’s door.

  “Sir,” says one of the mercs. “Mr. Anderson has asked not to be disturbed.”

  Ever since that day his father dragged him around the employee hospital, Gun has made a concerted effort to the learn names of each Anderson employee. He might not have liked the lesson, but he got the message: These are his people, every last one of them.

  Even the ones currently standing between him and his goal. If Gun remembers correctly, the foremost of the men is named Jackson.

  “Jackson.” He gives the man a flat look to let him know he doesn’t care about Anderson’s order. He’s rewarded with a look of surprise, which tells him he got the name right. “This can’t wait.”

  He strides forward. Three of mercs hesitate, uncomfortable interfering with the son of William Anderson. Jackson intercepts him, having no such hang-ups.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Anderson was explicit in his instructions. No one is to disturb him.”

  “This can go two ways,” Gun replies. “You can fight me. To be honest, I’m fixing for a few good swings at someone. We can brawl like two drunkards in the taproom, which will bring my father out here to find out what’s going on. He won’t be pleased to find his son fighting in the middle of the hallway like a street rat, but I’m willing to face his anger. Alternatively, I can give all of you enough credits for five rounds of whatever you want in the taproom. My father might be pissed, but he’ll take it out on me when I bully my way through those doors.”

  Gun crosses his arms, staring at each of the four mercs in turn. “So, what’ll it be?”

  Three of the mercs step aside, clearing the way to the door for him. Only Jackson remains where he is, eyes skittering back and forth between Gun and his comrades.

  “Taproom credits, or my father’s wrath,” Gun says. “What’ll it be?”

  Jackson purses his lips, scowling with displeasure as he steps aside.

  Gun blows past them, flinging open the double doors, charging into his father’s study.

  “Father, I have an idea. Global is—”

  He halts mid-stride, words dying on his tongue.

  Standing at the window is a tall, statuesque woman. She’s dressed in a black, bulletproof jumpsuit, her dark hair pulled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Grime smudges her face, neck, and hands, the only parts of her exposed.

  A wide belt rests on her hips. A dozen empty sheaths hang from it. This woman was armed to the teeth with knives, guns, and who knows what else before Anderson mercs divested her of them.

  The woman eyes Gun from head to toe as he enters, weighing and assessing him in the blink of an eye. Her dark eyes are fierce. She radiates a coiled readiness, as if she could explode into violence at the drop of a pin.

  Which Gun has no doubt she could. He knows this woman, though they’ve never met. She’s the older, hardened version of Sulan. She’s a legendary mercenary.

  Gun is so shocked he blurts out her name. “Li Yuan Hom.”

  18

  Proposal

  Li Yuan narrows her eyes. “You know who I am. How?”

  Gun recovers. “We make it our business to know every facet of Global Arms. You are a former Global mercenary and the wife of Dr. Eugene Hom. Your alias is Morning Star.”

  Her eyes study his face. He gazes steadily back at her, allowing her to take her assessment, though he wouldn’t be surprised if she sees right through his lie. It’s difficult not to fidget under her scrutiny.

  “Please excuse the rude interruption. This is my son, William,” Anderson says. He lounges in a leather chair before a hearth that, in all of Gun’s memory, has never been lit. “Son, Li Yuan has traveled all the way from California to visit us. Li Yuan, please, take a seat.”

  “I prefer to stand.” The woman exudes a calm lethality that Gun finds unnerving. She shifts, turning so that she faces both men in the room. “Nice to meet you, William.”

  “Gun,” he corrects, not liking the idea of Sulan’s mother using his formal name. “Are you aware of Global’s latest press release? Imugi is dead and your daughter is back in the hands of Global.”

  Li Yuan’s mouth tightens. “I am aware of my daughter’s whereabouts, Gun. It’s part of the reason why I’m here. I had to fake my death to get away from Global.”

  She’s alive. Until that moment, some part of him worried Sulan wasn’t really alive, that her manufactured likeness in Vex was all that was left of her. Gun wants to sag in relief, but forces himself to keep a straight spine. Sulan is alive. His world is right side up again.

  “Are you sure I can’t entice you to take a seat?” Anderson asks. “I assure you, these chairs are of the highest quality. I’m sure your feet could use a break after the journey you’ve made.” His smile looks genuine, but Gun knows him well enough to know it’s the same ingenuous charm he uses on everyone.

  Li Yuan ignores the friendliness entirely. “Are you aware of Project Renascentia?”

  Gun wracks his brain. The name means nothing.

  Anderson shakes his head. “Alas, I’m afraid not. Enlighten us, please.”

  Li Yuan considers her words. “What if I told you the central mind behind the League is not only still alive, but very much close to home?”

  Anderson waves a dismissive hand. “Reginald and Claudine Winn are the League. We are aware of this, Ms. Hom.”

  For the first time, Gun sees a ripple in Li Yuan’s poise. She is surprised, but she reveals this with only a flicker of her eyelids.

  “How do you know?” she asks.

  “My son had a hunch. Gun and his team have been digging into the Winns.” Is that pride Gun sees in his father’s face, or is it just his normal veneer of smugness?

  “Do you have proof?”

  “Nothing admissible in court,” Anderson replies.

  Li Yuan processes this intel with a slight tilt of the head. “You mean nothing that can be presented without also indicating Anderson Arms in something less than legal?”

  Anderson’s amusement is genuine. “I don’t suppose you’re here looking for employment, Ms. Hom? Because I’d be willing to make you a substantial offer right now.”

  “I’m here to propose a trade, Mr. Anderson.”

  “A trade?” Anderson’s smile broadens. “I’m listening.”

  �
�I have a team inside the Global biodome. They’re gathering evidence that can be used against the Winns. Help me extract them. Give all of us a place here at Anderson Arms. In exchange, we’ll give you the evidence you need to expose the Winns as the League.”

  Gun is ready to roust their legal counsel out of bed and have a contract drawn up. But he knows better than to insert himself at this point in the negotiation. Anderson never, ever takes the first offer proffered on the table.

  “Your proposal indicates that you know the location of the Global biodome,” he says.

  “Yes. I know where it is.”

  “How did you come by this information?”

  “If you ran a background check on me, you’d know I still have many contacts in the Global mercenary corps.”

  “Aston Hudanus,” Gun says. “You’re old partner.”

  Li Yuan inclines her head. “Yes.”

  “How reliable is his intel?” Anderson asks.

  “One hundred percent reliable.”

  “If you and your team have intel that can indicate Global, why did you not come forward with it before? Why do you need my help?”

  Li Yuan begins to pace. “Mr. Winn is planning something called Project Renascentia. It’s part of his League end game. None of us knows exactly what it is, but millions of lives might be at stake. One of his lead scientists—not my husband—has been given strains of deadly viruses to modify. My husband has the task of creating vaccines for these viruses.”

  A knot forms in Gun’s stomach. “What kind of viruses?”

  “Black plague. Smallpox. Cerebral malaria. Others.” Li Yuan stops before the hearth, her eyes cutting into them. “It’s a long list, but most recent efforts surround the pneumonic plague. My husband doesn’t have a vaccine yet. He doesn’t want to leave Global until he has something. If Mr. Winn does release the modified pneumonic plague, or one of his other diseases, none of us can afford to let him be the only person in possession of the vaccine.”

  Anderson rises. Li Yuan is tall for a woman—much taller than Sulan, that’s for sure—but Anderson towers over her by at least six inches.

  “Global needs to be wiped from the face of the earth,” he says. “Give me the location of the Dome. I’ll send every last merc in my employ to raze Global to the ground.”

  Li Yuan stiffens. “There are families in the Dome,” she says. “Hundreds of innocents. Children.”

  “Surely you’ve made difficult decisions in the mercenary world,” Anderson says. “What’s a few hundred when compared to the millions who will die if we don’t act now?”

  Gun senses the negotiation careening off course. The fact that his father is pushing for such a rash act shows how rattled he is.

  “Think about what you’re saying,” Gun says. “How will it look to the world when Anderson Arms launches an unprovoked attack against Global?

  “Unprovoked?” Anderson retorts. “Reginald Winn is waging a terrorism campaign against the American public. He needs to be taken out.”

  “Agreed, Father, but few outside this room know that. Right now, the public loves Global. Any evidence we dig up from the wreckage will be overshadowed by the massacre you are proposing.”

  “I want the location of the Dome,” Anderson says to Li Yuan. “Give me that, and we have a deal.”

  “No.” Li Yuan shakes her head. “No deal. I extract my family and my team from Global. I bring you the evidence you need to bring down Global. I also bring you vaccine intel, not to mention one of the world’s leading scientists. In exchange, my family and friends are given employment in your compound. This is a good deal, Mr. Anderson. I can think of half a dozen other corporations that would jump at the deal.”

  “You could get killed,” Anderson replies. “Then where am I? If your mission fails, and you don’t get the evidence, Reginald wins.”

  “I won’t get killed,” Li Yuan says. “I won’t fail. This is the only offer you get. It expires in twenty-four hours.”

  Gun widens his eyes at Li Yuan, trying to communicate that this was not a wise play. Anderson has many pressure point, top among them being threats.

  Li Yuan registers his warning, but doesn’t back down. She remains before the hearth, hands clasped behind her back, gaze steady.

  Gun senses fury building in his father. Anderson swallows, visibly forcing down his temper.

  “You must be tired,” he says to Li Yuan. “Let’s continue this conversation tomorrow over a meal.”

  Li Yuan inclines her head. “I accept your proposal.”

  “Good.” Anderson smiles, all evidence of his temper snuffed out. “Gun, will you please show our guest to a spare room?”

  “Yes, Father.” He nods to Li Yuan. “Come, I’ll take you to the guest floor.”

  Anderson stops them. “Oh, son, was there a reason you barged in here earlier?”

  “Yes.” He’d forgotten all about his plan in the shock of meeting Sulan’s mother. “Global is holding a press conference tomorrow in Infinity Stadium.” He glances at Li Yuan. “Sulan and the others will be there.”

  Li Yuan doesn’t respond, but her eyes smolder. If there is a person on this planet who hates Reginald Winn more than William Anderson, it just might be Li Yuan Hom.

  “Nate and the twins are working on a way to disrupt it,” Gun continues. “Until we have evidence against the Winns, we need to keep Anderson Arms in the limelight.”

  A wide grin splits Anderson’s face. This time, the pride he sees is genuine. “Now you’re thinking like an Anderson. I am at your disposal, son.”

  • • •

  Li Yuan is silent as Gun leads her to the guest wing on the third floor, which is mostly used for Global clients and suppliers. Along with suites, there are conference rooms and a communal kitchen.

  Li Yuan doesn’t make a sound when she walks, not even on the tiled floor. She moves like a cloud. Or a highly trained killer. The mercs trail at a respectful distance.

  “I’d get rid of them if I could,” Gun says. “House rules. All guests have armed escorts. For their safety, of course.” His mouth twists with irony.

  “I will indeed be safe with four armed escorts.” Li Yuan glances at him. He glimpses something like amusement in her eyes. Is it because she, too, sees the irony in the protocol, or is it because she can tie her escorts in knots with her eyes closed?

  “Here we go. Best suite we have.” Gun opens the door. “Can I show you around?” Not that anyone needs a tour of a three-room suite, but Gun hopes for a chance to talk to her in private.

  Li Yuan nods in assent. “After you, William.”

  “Gun.” He flicks on the lights as they enter a spacious sitting room. In the far corner of the room is a well-stocked minibar. He retrieves a bottle of water and holds it out to Li Yuan.

  “You know my daughter,” she says without preamble, taking the bottle from him.

  “I was trying to figure out a way to work up to that,” he says with a grimace.

  “It was the way you talked about her in the meeting with your father. The way you looked at me when you first entered the room. Like you knew me.”

  Gun nods. He appreciates that Li Yuan is not a woman a mince words.

  “Tell me how you know her.”

  “We’re friends in Vex. Training partners. I teach her how to fight.”

  “She was starting to move like someone who can handle herself. I thought she might be getting training somewhere, but I couldn’t figure out where.” Li Yuan pauses. He sees when the puzzle pieces fall into place for her. “She handled herself well on the rooftop before she was taken. But Vex training will only carry over so much into the real-world. She didn’t fight like someone who’s only trained in Vex.”

  Gun shifts. He wants to tell Li Yuan about the Touch, but he’s pretty sure any self-respecting mother would eviscerate a boy admitting to using Touch with her daughter, even if it is in a non-sexual way.

  “What?” Li Yuan says sharply. “What are you hiding?”

 
; Gun straightens his spine, reminding himself he has nothing to be ashamed of. “Sulan had this idea . . .”

  Li Yuan groans. “Go on.”

  “She came up with the idea to train with Touch.”

  Li Yuan’s eye’s flare. The muscles of her arms flex.

  Gun steps back, holding his hands up defensively. “She only used it when we trained. Never when we competed. I swear that’s all we used it for. I swear.”

  Her hands curl into fists as he glares at him. He is conscious of the fact that he’s in the presence of one of the fiercest mercenaries of all time.

  “We only used it for training,” Gun says. “Other than that, I never touched her. I swear. I swear, Li Yuan.”

  She looks him up and down, assessing. The hair bristles along Gun’s neck. He senses his well-being hanging in the balance. He has the impression Li Yuan, even though she’s shorter and leaner, could take him down with her pinky.

  After a moment, Li Yuan relaxes. She shakes out her arms and takes a step back.

  “You have my thanks,” she says at last. “Sulan always wanted me to train her. The things you taught her served her well when we fought the League.”

  Gun lets out a breath. The last thing he wanted was to be on Li Yuan’s bad side. Or to have her reduce him to dog food.

  “She doesn’t know who you really are, does she?” he asks.

  Li Yuan gives him a sharp look. Gun realizes he said the wrong thing.

  Idiot, he thinks.

  “She found out recently,” Li Yuan says, her displeasure clear. “I did not choose to tell her. My friend slipped up.”

  “She talked about you,” Gun says, trying to back pedal. “A lot. She wanted to tell you about the training. She . . . wanted you to be proud of her.”

  Li Yuan turns away. She takes a long drink of water, keeping her back to him. When she turns around, her face is composed, but the edges of her eyes are moist.

  “Sulan inherited my stubbornness.” She smiles. It’s a sad smile.